Krampus Boyfriend: Archimbaud (complete)

Your father is not perfect, no matter how the world sees him. Yes, he is the Santa, and there are countless legends about him. His work every year is sung about, and everywhere he is the beloved favorite of children. To you, though, he is simply your father - the workaholic, the secret Casanova, the sugar addict, and quite simply a man. 

You take on more responsibility in his workshop, managing production as well as negotiating with the reindeer every year. It’s hard work, and while the reward of making endless children happy is great, sometimes it feels like it is not enough to get through the days. From Halloween until New Year’s Day, you don’t really have a life. Life is just toys, bargaining, dealing with workplace accidents, arguing with reindeer over cost per mile, and weather updates. 

Your father, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to have any trouble finding time to relax. Along with an addiction to work and sugar cookies, he has an addiction to women. While people claim that Santa was a jovial and robust type, it’s really just his oversized suit. In reality, all the hard work your father does makes him strong and fit. Your mother said he was quite hard to turn down. 

Aside from your father filling a little black book to rival anyone’s, you’ve been trying to find your own ways to cope with the holidays. Recently the answer has just been walking. You tromp from one end of the workshop grounds to the other, past the candy shops, down to the liquor store, and beyond to where the forest begins and wild animals bar your way. 

Breathing a white cloud of steam from your lips, you gaze over the cliff that hangs over the endless waters. You watch the colors shift on the horizon, bleeding and flowing to create a watercolor painting.

You decide to turn back and go home, but as you start to stand up, you push against a large stone. It starts to sink into the ground, then suddenly splits open with a grinding noise, and parts until you see a staircase leading down.

For a moment, you consider going down it. At the same time, you realize you’re smarter than to go down magically-appearing stairs. 

“No way, too creepy,” you grumble to yourself, and start to walk away.

“Too chicken to come say hello, Nick?” a voice warbles from the darkness of the stairs. Stopping and turning, you look back towards the wide entrance.

“I can still smell you up there,” the voice cackles. “Oh, come on. All these years and you’re not even going to acknowledge your old friend.”

“Old friend?” you murmur. 

“Seriously. Shit or get off the pot, old man.” The voice is irritated. “It’s fucking cold, and that breeze you’re letting in is no fun, no matter how fucking hairy I am.”

You step closer to the entrance. “Hello?”

The voice goes silent.

“Is someone down there?” You take your first step down. A warm breeze rises from below as you descend the stairs. They lead to a hallway that curves suddenly. As you round the bend, you stand before a wall of bars. There’s a fireplace inside, and it looks like someone has been tending to it.

You hear a laugh in the shadows and nearly jump from your skin. “My, my, a visitor. I must be so lucky.”

You step back towards the corner as a shadowy figure approaches the bars. It’s massive, with horns rising tall from its head. Long, dark fingers coil around the bars as the figure comes closer. 

“Who’s there?” you ask, trying to remain firm even as your voice cracks.

Whoever is in the cell chuckles. Candles flicker on, and you see a massive beast standing there. He’s tall and powerful, covered in dark fur that falls in long locks around the sides of his face. His legs are bent backwards and end in goat-like hooves. Behind him is a long, thin tail that swishes back and forth like a devious cat’s. He’s wearing a long, tattered coat that might have once been a dark red. A long, green tongue flicks out of his muzzled face as you look at him, and sharp fangs protrude from his lower jaw. His eyes are a gruesome blood-red. Goat ears flop down in front of his long, curved horns.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“Come closer and we can,” he laughs.

You grimace, keeping your distance from him. “Who are you?”

He tilts his head to the side as he looks at you. “That’s my question as well.” He cracks his neck as he lifts his head up. “Darling little thing you are. Must be one of Nick’s new playthings.”

You scowl at the insinuation, disgusted by the thought. “I am not! I’m his kid!”

“His kid?” The creature balks. “My gods, old Nick finally went and done it.” He looks you over with carefully. “Now I have no idea what to make of you. Your mother must have been a pretty thing for you to turn out so comely. Thank the gods you look nothing like your father.”

You’re thankful for that too, but that’s beside the point. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Why should I? Will it matter to you when you leave here? Will I pop up again in your thoughts?” He shakes his head. “No reason to introduce myself when this will be our first and last meeting.” He scoffs as he steps away from the bars. “Your dear old daddy would probably shit a brick if he knew you were down here.”

You step closer. “Why?” you ask. “Why did my dad put you down here? For being creepy?”

“Good guess!” he laughs. “But not the full story.” The candles flicker out again and all you can see in the shadows is the creature’s outline against the fireplace. “Now be a good child and shut the door on your way out.”

That night, you can’t sleep. Piqued by the strangeness of the encounter, you go to the archives and look at old ledgers and logs detailing your father’s dealings. You discover that, in the beginning, your father did not work alone. He once had an assistant, a man called Archimbaud. Before coal was implemented to punish naughty children, Archimbaud used his unique gifts to punish them.

The next night, after work is over, you returned to the stone and make your way down the staircase to see your father’s strange prisoner. 

“You came back,” he says from the shadows. “Should I be surprised or worried?”

You come closer to the bars of the cell. “Do you mind turning on some lights? I wanted to have a word with you, Archimbaud.”

The candles flicker on abruptly to reveal his surprised face. “What did you call me?” He comes towards the bars, squatting down so he is eye to eye with you.

“You worked with my dad, right?” You try not to falter as his eyes bore into you. “Back when this whole Santa thing started. You were his coal, right?”

He scoffs, and his tongue sticks out to the side. “Coal as a punishment! Do you know how expensive that shit can get?” He rolls his eyes and stands back up. “How did you find me out?”

“I went through a lot of ledgers.” You tilt your head up to look at him. “So, Archimbaud, what exactly was it you did with my father?”

He scoffs, his nostrils flaring. “Why do you care?”

“I’m bored,” you answer honestly. “All I do these days is work. I’ve not got much else on my plate, and you provided a mystery.”

“Mystery,” he snorts. “How cute.”

You reach into your pocket and take out some candy. “Not sure what you eat down here, but would you like some?” 

Archimbaud looks down at your hand, then back into your eyes. “Are you serious?” He snatches the candy away and sniffs it conspicuously. “I figured if Nick had any sort of kid, they’d be like him and constantly chasing tail.”

You grimace at the notion. “Consider me lucky, then. I’m far too busy to… chase tail.” Your lip curls as you say it.

Archimbaud eats some of the candy, gnashing a whole candy cane in his teeth. “A workaholic though,” he chuckles. “Didn’t fully escape.”

“No,” you grumble.

“Look, kid,” he huffs, “you sure you want to go digging into your father’s past like this? May uncover something you won’t like.”

“I’m old enough to know there are many things about my father that I do not like.” You stand up straight again. “Don’t get me wrong, I love him. But I know he’s flawed, and deeply at that.”

Archimbaud sniffs and allows you a smile. “Well, then, aren’t you a wise one. You sure you want to find out more about me?” He lays his huge hand on his chest and sweeps it down. “Look at me. Although you might be curious, are you not afraid?”

Your eyes linger on his big, hairy chest, his narrow waist and hips. There’s something strangely sensual about his physique that piques your interest. You glance back to his eyes and swallow. 

“You’re in a cage. I think I’ll be okay,” you huff.

A whistle leaves his lips. “Impressive bravado.”

“Now tell me,” you stiffen your jaw, “how did you work with my father?”

Archimbaud shrugs. “In the beginning, we worked well together. Of course, back then, it was a simple operation. He was a toymaker, and I was his worst enemy.”

Your brow pinches. “What?”

Archimbaud smirks at you. “I was a teacher at the local school, and his toys were hindering my lessons.” He looks down into his palm. “I didn’t always look like this. In fact, this was your father’s idea.”

You chew on your bottom lip. “Then tell the story in order.”

“I’m starting to like you, kid.” Archimbaud nods his head. “I had many issues with your father back when we were young. We argued horribly, because he tended to spoil children, whereas I believed children needed order and discipline to grow into fine adults. We started to sort of like one another, and eventually, we came to an agreement of sorts. Once a year Nick would spoil all the good children with toys, while I would punish the wicked ones.”

You shrug your shoulders up around your neck. “And you turned into a monster?” 

“Fear is powerful,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have used it so wastefully. Your father has a way about him, I’m sure you know.”

“He’s persuasive,” you grumble. 

Archimbaud’s lip curls. “It eventually came to a point where I became so hated that your father was given an ultimatum - get rid of me, or lose his high seat of honor.”

“So he did… this?” You wave at the bars. “He locked you up?”

“I was livid.” A mad gleam comes into Archimbaud’s eyes as he grins. “Still am, frankly. But he locked me away here, and here I have stayed.”

I look for any sort of lock or door, but there appears to be none. “I’m so sorry.”

He rolls his eyes. “Nothing to be sorry for, kid. T’was your father who fucked me over royally.” 

You step closer to the bars, take off your glove and extend your bare hand out to Archimbaud. He looks at it with caution. 

“I’m pretty lonesome myself,” you murmur. “Do you mind if I keep visiting?”

His gaze lowers and he brushes your hand aside. “What can I do to stop you?” he scoffs. “I’m trapped here.”

You return each night after work, sometimes bringing snacks or drinks along with you. At first Archimbaud is not so pleased to see you, but each day he opens up a little further. He talks more, and better yet, he actually listens to you. 

One evening, after an exceptionally hard day, you sit down beside the bars and start to cry. Archimbaud puts his hand through the bars and rests it on top of your head. 

“Cry if you need to,” he whispers. “If you feel safe enough here to do so, then do it.”

You look up, and his hand gently brushes under your eye to wipe away the tears. His touch is warm, and it lingers for a moment before he withdraws back into his cage. There is silence between you for a long moment, as the tears dry and your nerves recover. You chuckle softly. 

“Thanks,” you sigh. “I needed that.”

“I don’t like seeing it,” he grumbles. “I hate that there is nothing I can do to comfort you except a stupid head pat.”

You stand up. “You could kiss me.”

He sneers. “What?”

You tilt your chin up. “It’s ok.”

Archimbaud comes closer. “Kissing will do no good if I can’t hold you against me,” he breathes. “These bars keep me from you even more than they keep me from life outside.” He takes hold of your hand. “I’ve thought about it, many times. I long for comfort, for touch, but if I cannot hold you then I will not risk torture with a kiss.”

You study the bars for a second. “I’ll be right back.” You rush out and return to the workshop. There, you take one of the torches used to weld metal toys and return to the cell. 

“Stand back,” you tell him. You turn it on, and a blue flame shoots out. Bit by bit, you work over the bars, and eventually the flame cuts through them. Soon, you have an opening big enough that you can slip into the cell.

“Think about this,” Archimbaud chuckles. “You could be walking into a trap. I could eat you, or rip you apart as soon as you stand before me.”

You grin. “I’m not a naughty kid.”

“Not yet, anyway.” Archimbaud holds his hand out as you slip into his cell. You stumble, grabbing his hand before you fall. He pulls you close, wrapping his strong arms around you as your cheek is mashed against his chest.

“You’re soft,” you coo as your rub your face all over his broad chest.

He chuckles, scooping you off the ground. “I can get hard too,” he teases. “But enough about that.” He nuzzles your cheek and neck, sniffing you before his lips brush against your skin. You gasp softly as he kisses you. Your hands cup his face.

Archimbaud lets out a moan that turns into a chuckle as he pulls away. “Far too sweet. You’ll give me a cavity, kid.” He whisks you away to the chair on the far side of his cell, where you rest in his lap before the fire. His body relaxes as he melts back into the seat. 

“It’s been so long,” he whispers. “Being this close to someone else. I can’t explain it.” His arms tighten around you. “Thank you.”

You kiss him again, straining your neck up to reach his face. “I’ll finish opening up the cell,” you sigh. “Just let me linger here a little while longer.”

“Stay as long as you wish,” he murmurs. “Stay forever.” His hand rubs up and down your back. “What good would I be in the world anymore?”

“You can keep my dad on his toes.” You smirk as you snuggle against his chest. “You can be with me as well.”

“You sure about that?” Archimbaud kisses the top of your head. “You want an old devil like me, when your cute ass could have anyone in this world?”

“You’re enough ‘anyone’ for me,” you sigh. “Thank you for calling me cute.”

Archimbaud clicks his tongue. “You’re playing with fire, that’s for certain.” He smiles nonetheless. “I’m glad of it though.”

You bite your lip as you stroke your hand down his chest. “I’m a little tired,” you murmur. “Can we go lay down?”

His breath catches in his chest, and he lets out a pained laugh. “You need to set that fire aside, kid,” he growls. But he stands up with you and takes you over to his bed.

“I’ll be good, promise,” you say as you sit on the edge of the bed. 

“Good,” he snarls, then leans into close, whispering into your ear. “Because do you know what I do to naughty kids?” His breath sends shivers down your spine, and you can’t help but grin uncontrollably. 

“Actually,” you giggle, “I don’t. Warn me so I’ll behave as we cuddle.”

Archimbaud laughs. “Well,” he breathes as he takes off your coat. “They receive a nice, sound spanking.”

You bite down on your bottom lip. “Oh my.”

Archimbaud pushes you down into the bed. “You don’t want to know what I do to the exceptionally bad ones.”

You snuggle up beside him as he lays down in the bed. You hold your breath, sucking it in, as his large palm cups around your rear. 

“You’ll have to tell me one day,” you chuckle.

Archimbaud kisses you. “Hopefully, you’ll be a good one.” He then brushes your hair away from your face. “For now, I’m so happy to be close to you.”

“Me too,” you yawn.

His arms wrap tight around you, and he buries his face in your hair. You begin to drift asleep as you melt further into his embrace. He presses a kiss to your temple, and you sigh dreamily. 

“I’ll reward you somehow,” he whispers. “I promise.”